


It's Gonna be Electric

by Rhaenyra45



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Closet make out session, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, M/M, Pole Dancing, Smut, Truth or Dare, smut in second chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaenyra45/pseuds/Rhaenyra45
Summary: Baekhyun has just finished finals, and his friends decide to play a game of truth or dare. Chanyeol reveals a secret that leaves Baekhyun's mouth dry. They end up in a closet.I want to give you the worst kissUntil you get angryIs it okay to tease you like this?-Electric Kiss, EXO





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the 'Electric Kiss' lyrics. This was going to be a one shot, but this is a ship that deserves a whole second chapter for smut ;)

Chanyeol only believed in love because of music.

He didn’t care for meant-to-be, or love at first sight—nothing like that. He knew that love meant trust, and trust took time, but he _was_ very accustomed with lust at first sight. His entire body agreed _that_ was real, especially where Byun Baekhyun was concerned.

He’d met Baekhyun when a mutual friend, Sehun, had mentioned Chanyeol to the other offhandedly. Baekhyun had been looking for a tutor. The guy had gotten an impressive final score in high school without really trying, took literature along with his composing course to placate his parents, and was suffering. University was a lot harder than high school, and he couldn’t cruise through anymore, no matter how naturally intelligent he was.

At the mention of music and literature, Sehun had recommended Chanyeol, and Baekhyun had then proceeded to stalk him.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, wasn’t naturally gifted. He’d had to work and study every day of his life, and the fact that Baekhyun got into his courses without taking any kind of practice test annoyed the hell out of him. Impressed and turned him on a little, but he chose to ignore all of that.

He’d discovered quickly that Baekhyun was an amazingly poetic writer, somehow encouraging emotion while repressing it, but he sucked at analysis. Unfortunately for him, ninety percent of his course was based scores regarding just that. Chanyeol helped his grades improve a great deal. Baekhyun had just aced his final essay, so they both knew it was time to end their lessons.

That didn’t mean either wanted to, or that it was fucking easy.

Baekhyun could’ve improved a lot more, if he hadn’t flirted with Chanyeol every five seconds. Then again, he could’ve been a better tutor, if Baekhyun hadn’t been stunning, but he just _had_ to go out of his way to be gorgeous. What was the most annoying thing, though, was that he never even tried. He was naturally hot, and it grated on Chanyeol’s nerves.

Baekhyun was a strange, singular type of stunning. His hair was messy, black and red framing his face just right. His cheekbones were high and pale, rose blush hidden from sight by his hair whenever Chanyeol teased him. His lashes were so thick that it never made a difference if he wore eyeliner, his lips a pale pink and almost always chapped. If he was feeling adventurous, he’d wear blue or green contacts. Those were sexy, Chanyeol would admit, but he honestly found his natural, dark eyes more mesmerising. They matched his mood. They sparked with his happiness, glinted in warning, and crackled with his rage.

Now, Baekhyun and his friends were busy celebrating. Chanyeol was distracting himself from an existential crisis by closing his eyes against the powerful scent of weed and the intense clanks of a ping pong ball in the next room. Most people were quite tipsy already. Half of their friends spoke Chinese, and in their haze sometimes switched languages, to the mild alarm of every monolingual in the room.

Baekhyun rushed to Chanyeol’s side, clinging to his jacket. He giggled, resting his chin against Chanyeol’s shoulder playfully.

“C’mon, we’re gonna play truth or dare,” the tipsy man cheered into his sleeve, tugging him into the other room.

Chanyeol stiffened, feeling unreasonably anxious. He wasn’t familiar with all of Baekhyun’s friends, his only connections to this particular group of people Sehun, his other roommate Junmyeon, and Baekhyun himself. He’d only come along because the others had wanted to meet, as they put it, ‘the man who got Byun mother fucking Baekhyun to stop partying every night and study once or twice.’ He didn’t know a lot of these people, and he was about to object to playing when Baekhyun silenced him, a slender finger shoved against his parted lips.

“Hush,” he cooed, mouth twitching as Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at him. Baekhyun seemed to get lost for a second, a nail recently painted black tracing his cupid’s bow. Chanyeol snapped his mouth shut in panic, Baekhyun blinked, and suddenly the moment was over. “C’mon, they’re nice people.”

Chanyeol whined as Baekhyun forced him to sit next to Junmyeon and some unknown stranger, skipping over to the other side of the circle to sit.

“Let’s go!” someone shouted. Chanyeol vaguely recalled being introduced to him. Jongin, he remembered.

To kick everything off, someone named Yixing downed a whole bottle of beer. Chanyeol only caught his name because everyone was chanting it the whole time. He slid the bottle into the middle of the circle, running a victory lap, waving his hands about. Chanyeol didn’t miss the fingers that ran along Junmyeon’s shoulders and neck when he ran past, and noticed the way his friend shivered at the contact. Chanyeol poked him, giggling like a teenager. Junmyeon flushed, vigorously denying any accusations thrown his way. Chanyeol cackled at each attempt, but shut up when Junmyeon returned fire with that _one time_ he’d moaned Baekhyun’s name in his sleep. Thankfully, no one else seemed to hear. They shot each other frustrated looks, Chanyeol grumbling to himself and crossing his arms in indignation.

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun cheered as the bottle spun to a stop. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” the man in question answered with a feline grin and a click of the neck. “Come at me.”

Sehun flung up his hand. “How many people in this circle have you had sex with?”

Jongdae’s eyes glinted with mischief as he scanned the room, lips pursed as he counted. He took a long while before finally responding. “Four,” he declared conclusively.

A chorus of wolf whistles went up, most people looking around at the others curiously. Considering how Jongdae went in to kiss Minseok and whisper something in his ear, they’d definitely been together, Chanyeol decided. Yixing was smirking while Junmyeon seethed, so he supposed they’d boned, too. Sehun looked very uncomfortable, staring at the floor, contemplating life. So, there was Minseok, Yixing, Sehun and…

“If Minseok ever leaves you, I’m always up for round six, babe,” Baekhyun hollered with a scandalous wink. To his surprise, Minseok laughed loudly along with everyone else. Well, everyone except Chanyeol.

He was too busy trying to decide if the twist in his gut was from jealousy or too many pretzels. It could’ve honestly been either, Chanyeol never quite worked that out.

They spun and spun again, secrets and stupidity revealed in each individual slowly, until Chanyeol finally relaxed. He realised about halfway through that for the first time in his entire life, he was sitting with a large number of people who wouldn’t judge him or ask offensive, insensitive questions regarding his sexuality. It was really because at least half of them happened to be bi or gay as well, and when it was Chanyeol’s turn, he picked truth. He found that didn’t want or have to hold back his real answer.

Sehun decided to be a bitch and ask him what his most fucked up sexual fantasy was, but instead of fumbling for an answer, like he had all night, he downed Junmyeon’s drink and gave a what he deemed a brilliant, eloquent answer.

“Chaining a guy to a bed and fucking him to hell and back,” he said boldly, grinning behind Junmyeon’s cup before it was snatched away.

“ _What?!_ ” was the general reaction. Junmyeon was hitting him, asking if he was the real Chanyeol, Minseok muttered to Jongdae that he was probably stoned, and Sehun regarded him proudly, a hand held to his heart and a tear in his eye.

Those reactions, as priceless as they were, didn’t really matter to him, though. He added ‘guy’ in there specifically to let Baekhyun know he was interested, as he’d avoided telling him he was gay before, because of the whole tutor dynamic. He craned his neck to try and glimpse his reaction, and kind of wished he never had.

Baekhyun’s unwavering stare engraved itself into his memory, a gaze too intense to be real. His mouth was open in shock, solo cup crushed in his hand, stormy eyes assessing him from beneath black lashes. He huffed in disbelief, biting his lip on a smirk. Chanyeol averted his eyes, some of his liquid courage dissipating into the air. He laughed it off, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck as the others shook their heads in bewilderment. They continued on, his confession forgotten for a time.

He’d made Baekhyun look like that.

The confidence may have left, but the underlying ego was thriving with this knowledge.

There were minute make-out sessions, teeth brushed with peanut butter, disgusting smoothies, detailed sexual histories revealed, and most of the dares seemed to be completed by Baekhyun. He never picked truth and never backed down, completing his challenge and then some.

The only time he ever hesitated was when Jongdae and Minseok offered him a double-edged dare. He could drink a quarter cup of toilet water, or spend a whole seven minutes in Sehun’s closet with Chanyeol.

He thought it didn’t actually sound too bad. They’d spent a lot of time together studying, and they had a comfortable, rhythmic banter established. It’s not like they were strangers, or had to actually do anything in there.

Baekhyun, however, didn’t see it the same way.

He whined and attempted to negotiate the water down to a tablespoon, but Jongdae and Minseok were unforgiving. Chanyeol flashed them a glance; had they seen that look on Baekhyun’s face when he’d divulged his kink, too?

Chanyeol had to stifle his smirk when he noticed Baekhyun breathing a little quickly, pink sprinkled across the top of his cheeks as he lifted his chin towards Chanyeol. He stood, trying to regain his composure. He brushed himself off and held out his hand.

“C’mon then, Channie.”

Jongdae and Minseok high fived, Junmyeon cackled, and Sehun stood with a grin to lead them away. Chanyeol rolled his eyes at the outstretched hand before him, but took it with a quiet laugh for the benefit of the room’s atmosphere. The others cheered as they walked out hand in hand, and Chanyeol fanned cold air onto his face overdramatically. The room howled in laughter.

“So, you _do_ have a sense of humour,” Baekhyun snorted.

“Better to make fun of yourself than make everything awkward,” Chanyeol muttered with a shrug.

“Says the stuttering giant,” Baekhyun hissed half-heartedly, forcing back his giggle as soon as it slipped out.

Chanyeol’s smile was toothy. It was funny, watching Baekhyun attempting to reign in laughter. He got the sense that he was grumbling to compensate for the way his fingers trembled where they were linked with Chanyeol’s. He would’ve been sympathetic—empathetic, even—but the thing was, Baekhyun was so damn cocky all the time that Chanyeol wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by. He didn’t feel weird about flirting anymore, now that Baekhyun didn’t need tutoring to get by, and get by well.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, and went all in.

He took a stride forward, easily catching the pace with his lanky legs. Their arms went slack the closer he got, elbows bumping as they walked. Chanyeol turned his head to Baekhyun, mouth so close to his ear that he felt it when he spoke. He wasn’t oblivious to the other eyeing his exposed neck, still glistening from when Jongin had dared Junmyeon to do a body shot off his neck. There was still a fading mark along his pulse, where Junmyeon had bitten him out of spite.

Yixing and Baekhyun had given Jongin glares to match the anger of a thousand suns.

He breathed warm air into the shell of Baekhyun’s ear, licking his bottom lip to keep himself from nipping the silver earring that dangled down temptingly.

“You seem nervous, Baekhyun,” he drawled lowly, watching the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Baekhyun’s pace faltered a step, gaze trained on the back of Sehun’s head to keep from looking at him. He wrenched his hand out of his grip. “I’m not anything but annoyed, you dick.”

Chanyeol chuckled. “You’re a good liar, Baekhyun, but we’ve spent too much time together for the bitchy façade to work anymore.”

Sehun guided them a room over, opening a door to reveal a storage closet filled with an inordinate amount of random crap no one needed. Why the hell did Sehun have a sewing machine, anyway?

He shoved them in, taking out his phone to set the timer. “I’ll come and get you in seven minutes. Try not to be too… vocal, please?”

Baekhyun scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Chanyeol laughed softly, shaking his head in disapproval. Sehun’s gaze flicked between the two of them. He heaved a long-winded sigh that could’ve meant absolutely anything, and kicked the door closed.

Baekhyun refused to look at him. Chanyeol didn’t really understand. This was just a stupid dare that wasn’t thought through properly; if Jongdae and Minseok had actually wanted them to make out, they could’ve said that instead.

Baekhyun rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his tense muscles. Chanyeol slipped his hands into his own pockets, trying to catch the other’s eye.

“We don’t actually have to do anything, I don’t know why you’re pouting about the easiest dare in the world.”

“Beg to differ,” Baekhyun sneered. “I have to put up with you.”

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow; it seemed that bright, bubbly Baekhyun had taken a vacation, replaced by a grumbling, blushing mess. “You spend a lot of time with me, given how… frustrating you say I am.”

Chanyeol dared to take one step closer, scanning him carefully to confirm he wasn’t misinterpreting anything. It was hard in the dark, but he could make out Baekhyun’s outline backing up, head turning to the side.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Chanyeol reassured again, suddenly uncertain.  Baekhyun wasn’t stepping away or straight up jumping out the door, but the cold shoulder might’ve been his warning.

He _heard_ Baekhyun’s gulp in the dizzying silence, and genuinely expected rejection, despite all the hints, despite the flirting. Maybe that’s what the reaction to his kink really was, before—what if it wasn’t that he was interested, but just not into it? Disgusted, even? Fuck, why had he said that?

“And what if I want it to?”

Chanyeol stilled completely at the hushed words, the courageous statement echoing through his mind, a flicker of heat sweeping through his bones. His body sang with arousal, and he steadied his limbs before walking into the inferno, a hand slithering up Baekhyun’s neck. He played the hair, carding it as he studied the veins in his neck and the collarbone left on display.

“Then happen it shall.”

“Idiot,” Baekhyun breathed. He shuffled closer, both of their chests heaving with the effort it took to stay alive in that moment, so close the edge of their noses touched. Chanyeol wrote a path across Baekhyun’s face with his fingers, tracing the corner of his mouth, letting a nail slide along his bottom lip. He treated this the same as he treated writing and music, but Baekhyun didn’t quite understand. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”

The electricity where their breaths mingled in the air between their lips was explosive and fiery, a deep, frightening buzz building where their skin touched. Chanyeol built and built and built for as long as he could stand, determined for Baekhyun to remember this—him—not just the tongue he would unleash later. For now, he had to create a backstory, so the character was memorable; he had to add a bass line, so the melody felt grand; he had to stoke the fire, so the heat was more intense.

“Wait for it,” he whispered, lips unbelievably close.

Baekhyun’s mouth twitched. “It seems hell is empty, and all the devils are here.”

Chanyeol threw his eyebrows up, ignoring the implication that he was from hell to focus on the fact that Baekhyun just quoted mother fucking Shakespeare. “ _The Tempest_? Have you been reading ahead?”

“Well, you told me to, and you do well in class, so…”

Chanyeol puffed out a cackle, stretching down to capture Baekhyun’s lip in a sudden, powerful bite. “No words, Baek. Not now.”

It was a strange turn of events, his literature tutor persuading him to forget about language for the moment. Baekhyun’s heart was pounding, beating like a drummer eager for their solo. It didn’t feel like the end of a song, though—it barely felt like the beginning, even if it had taken longer for them to get to this moment than it should’ve.

Just as he lunged forwards, Chanyeol did too. They crashed together in a mess of insistent tongue and teeth. Baekhyun writhed against him, too worked up from the perfectly executed foreplay. Chanyeol was worried he’d changed his mind about all of this until he collected his thoughts enough to realise he was only struggling to get closer. He clawed at Chanyeol’s back, mewling into his mouth when he lifted Baekhyun’s leg up to rest at his hip. He jolted his hips forward, grinding against Chanyeol, coaxing out a deep groan from the back of his throat. Baekhyun scratched at Chanyeol’s scalp as his hand climbed upwards, lips hard and ruthless on both ends.

Chanyeol broke the kiss to catch his breath, and Baekhyun trailed his lips and teeth along his jaw and down his neck.

“You know,” Baekhyun said, panting, “I was surprised at your answer to Sehun’s question.”

Chanyeol grinned as Baekhyun rested against his pulse. “I saw.”

He lifted his head, and stood on his toes to bring his mouth to Chanyeol’s ear. He slipped his hand beneath Chanyeol’s shirt, exploring his extensive shoulders.

“Thinking about you, doing that to me, got me more turned on than I’ve ever been before,” he murmured huskily, lashing out at Chanyeol’s ear, biting and pulling him unbearably close.

Shaking the shiver from his spine, Chanyeol acted upon this newfound knowledge. He encircled Baekhyun’s wrists, quietly asked if he was sure, and slammed his hands above his head. Chests flush against one another, Chanyeol thrusted up, earning a delightful moan from Baekhyun. Eyes shut and faces flushed, they brought their all to another drawn-out kiss. It was funny; though Chanyeol was holding him to the wall, both felt equal when it came to who controlled everything.

They shared respect, and that’s really all that mattered to them.

Baekhyun surged forwards as Chanyeol pulled _just_ out of reach, smirking at the growl that escaped from his kiss-bitten lips, swollen and sensitive, yet still seeking out more. His slender eyes were blown wide, flitting all over Chanyeol’s face as he leaned in, licking and kissing his way down the jut of his jaw, sucking skin in between his teeth as he shifted along the curves of his neck. Baekhyun’s breathing was scattered and erratic, holding his own lips hostage to contain the whimpers threatening to fall from his mouth.

The noises escaped anyway when Baekhyun pushed his hips into Chanyeol, and he responded with double the vigour. Chanyeol moaned and Baekhyun keened, voice hitching when Chanyeol used one hand to skim the skin below his waistband, thumbs hooking in his belt loops.

Baekhyun was so ready, so willing for this to continue on forever and ever, and that’s exactly when it stopped.

Chanyeol froze against him; Baekhyun blinked slowly, dazed eyes adjusting to the new light that flew in vividly from the outside world. He managed to eventually focus in on an amused Jongdae and an unimpressed Sehun, who threw his hands in the air exaggeratedly.

“Jesus, there better not be anything weird stuck to all of my shit.”

Chanyeol did his best to halt his laboured breaths, forcing his mouth shut and letting Baekhyun’s hands fall from his grasp. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a reluctant step back. Baekhyun slumped forwards, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Meanwhile, Jongdae was giggling with glee, practically skipping away. “Minseok! You owe me twenty!”

Sehun grabbed Chanyeol, forcing him out of the closet. Baekhyun trailed after, trying desperately to hide his big, goofy smile. He took out his phone, wandering back to their friends idly. He ignored the cackles and pats on the back, fighting off Kyungsoo when he prodded at the hickeys on his neck. He sent a text to the one person his mind could even remember the name of right then.

**Your place or mine?**

When Baekhyun looked up, he saw the wicked grin on Chanyeol’s face, and forgot about concealing his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut next chapter, and Dream, Reality will be updated within the next week. Promise <3
> 
> This has been cross-posted on Wattpad :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna finish this so soon, but I was so shocked by all the kudos that I wrote it all in a few nights. Warning: smut, porn, straight up. You have been warned. Enjoy ;)

Baekhyun felt dizzy as he peppered kisses to Chanyeol’s neck, stumbling backwards as they made their way through the street. He smiled against the laugh he felt rumbling in the back of Chanyeol’s throat, clinging to his sleeve.

“Baekhyun, I can’t drive unless you let go,” he attempted to reason.

Baekhyun pouted, kissing him soundly before letting him climb into the driver’s seat. He slipped into the shitty car himself, hands snaking around Chanyeol’s neck and inner thigh. He scratched at the denim of his jeans, pulling at his hair softly. He let the back of his hand brush over his crotch, smirking at the half hardness he was met with. He bit Chanyeol’s ear—he’d seemed to like that before. Chanyeol stopped at a red light, whining shakily when Baekhyun slipped his hand beneath his jeans to touch him teasingly.

“I swear to god,” Chanyeol breathed. “When we get there, you’re fucking in for it.”

He wasn’t lying. As soon as they got to university parking, Chanyeol took his hand, ran to his room and unlocked the door in record time. The rain hammered outside, matching the erratic beating of Baekhyun’s heart when Chanyeol pressed two fingers against his pulse point. Baekhyun wrapped his arms around his neck as Chanyeol dragged the back of his hand across his face gently. He leaned into the light caress, relishing the calm before the storm. He could see the coiling clouds and rampant thunder just behind Chanyeol’s eyes, the mere fantasy of what was to come jolting him to a new level of awareness. He was excited to see that, to see more of Chanyeol like that, but for that moment… he let the quiet engulf him.

He closed his eyes, huffing in disbelief when Chanyeol called him beautiful.

“Please,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re the pretty boy here, Channie.”

Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile into their next kiss, languidly building up to their frantic pace from before. He pushed Chanyeol backwards, the other laughing as they stumbled along.

Junmyeon had seen them leave together, and promised he wouldn’t be home until late. It _was_ a relief, until they both realised that he wouldn’t have been coming home anyway, from the manner in which Yixing was eyeing him. Chanyeol felt happy for him; Yixing might be what he needed to finally get over Kris. However, he still hated him as he danced over his dirty clothes. He swore as his foot banged into one of his guitars.

 “Jesus, how many instruments do you two own?” Baekhyun giggled between random pecks.

Chanyeol fumbled with the doorknob digging into his spine, smiling sheepishly. “One electric, a bass, an acoustic and a drum set. All mine.”

“No words, Chanyeol,” he mimicked his earlier words in a high-pitched voice, desperate for him to stop talking and start kissing him again.

Chanyeol grinned and shook his head fondly as Baekhyun pushed him through the open door. “Don’t pretend that didn’t turn you on.”

Baekhyun chose not to answer that. Instead, he walked his fingers across the neck of Chanyeol’s shirt, tugging it to try and get a better angle at his collarbone. Chanyeol grunted at the little nips he planted across his shoulders, tugging his own shirt off in frustration. Baekhyun let his hands wander along the newly revealed flesh, nails scraping over the warm span of his back. Chanyeol toyed with the zippers on Baekhyun’s jacket, sliding it off his shoulders as they meandered over to the bed, not really paying that much attention to the direction they were headed. It was a miracle they made it to the mattress, really.

The back of Chanyeol’s knees hit the bedframe, and as they flopped down ungracefully, he yanked Baekhyun’s shirt off and fiddled absentmindedly with the button of his jeans. He let the black denim slide beneath his fingers, hands teasing for what Baekhyun considered far too long. They landed on the bed side by side, shuffling up awkwardly. They were far too giddy for their age—this had been building for what felt like a lifetime.

Nothing could’ve prepared Baekhyun for this, though. He never thought the day would come when Chanyeol would flip them to blatantly take over, pushing down his pants while grumbling about how tight they were.

“Hard to get off now, but it was _so_ worth seeing your expression when you first saw me tonight,” Baekhyun cackled.

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, throwing the offending item away with unnecessary gusto. He crawled up to Baekhyun, a playful glint in his eye. “Was it, now?”

Baekhyun returned the mischievous expression tenfold, lifting his chin in challenge. Chanyeol moved closer, calloused, musician’s hands palming at him. Baekhyun bit his lip on a whine. It was excruciating, having Chanyeol so close, staring _right at his lips_ , doing nothing but getting him even harder. He meant what he said before; Chanyeol was the devil, all dressed up with cotton candy hair and abnormally large ears. His piercing eyes dared Baekhyun to move forwards. A millimetre closer and they would meet again, static flying across their skin where one person encountered the other; where a body craved another.

“How do you wanna do this?” Chanyeol asked, Baekhyun huffing when he refused to kiss him. Chanyeol smiled with all of his teeth, shiny and slightly crooked in the light of his bedside lamp. Had he turned that on before? Baekhyun had been too busy being turned on himself to notice such trivial things.

He considered for a moment, flicking his gaze to the small table beside them. He wondered what Chanyeol had hidden away, but he pushed his curiosity to the back of his mind.

“Fuck me,” he said simply.

Baekhyun liked being held, and he really liked handcuffs, too, but they weren’t there yet. As much as he loved the thrill that came with being restrained, he wanted to give Chanyeol as much as he got, at least right then. They could go further next time.

Fuck, Baekhyun hoped there’d be a next time.

Chanyeol nodded, fishing for supplies in his draw while Baekhyun took care of his pants. When they were gone and so were their boxers and briefs, Chanyeol finally kissed Baekhyun. Chanyeol tasted like cheap alcohol and candy canes, for some fucking reason; Baekhyun tasted like beer and salt and vinegar chips. The scent of vanilla and sweat wafted up from his skin, sending Chanyeol into a miniscule fit of unprecedented arousal.

It’s strange, discovering the things that turn yourself on.

While chasing each other’s tongue in what felt like an eternal race, Chanyeol teased the edge of Baekhyun’s rim, preparing him. He slipped one serpentine, lube-slick finger into Baekhyun, growling when he was gifted a harsh bite in compensation.

Mumbling a half-hearted apology, Baekhyun threaded his hands through the strands of Chanyeol’s fuzzy pink hair, a stark contrast to his glittering, hooded eyes. He slowly began to move his finger in a small circle, watching Baekhyun carefully. As the long seconds grew to minutes, Chanyeol had finally expanded his range and added another finger. He smiled smugly when Baekhyun sucked air in through his teeth, body jerking away before clenching around him again.

“Gotcha,” Chanyeol murmured victoriously, curling his fingers into that same spot.

The stretch burned slightly, but the sight Chanyeol made was doing a good job of distracting him; he was breathtaking. His hair stuck to his sweaty skin, eyes more intense than he’d ever seen, brows furrowed in a concentration similar to that when he studied. Baekhyun had only ever seen Chanyeol play guitar a few times, but he’d seen him compose multiple—this look of utter awareness and heightened sense was the expression he’d worn then.

Baekhyun felt honoured. If he placed anywhere near music in Chanyeol’s top priorities, he was doing pretty damn well. It made him blush, despite the entire situation.

His mind abruptly stopped working when Chanyeol fucked three fingers into him, mercilessly ramming into his prostate as many times as he could manage. Baekhyun locked his ankles behind Chanyeol’s back, heels digging in to pull their chests flush. He reached down, fingers trailing down a path of hair to spread precum over the head of his length. He pumped, messing up the rhythm with a flick of his wrist every now and then for the pure pleasure of seeing Chanyeol’s determined expression falter.

Before long, both of them were shaking, and Baekhyun full on whined when Chanyeol pulled his fingers out. “Hurry up, Park.”

Chanyeol muttered a few curses as he ripped open a condom, rolling it on. Baekhyun licked his lips, drinking in the sight of Chanyeol framed in the dim glow of the lamp.

“Changed my mind,” Baekhyun announced abruptly, cocking his head. “I wanna ride you.”

Chanyeol flung up a sharp eyebrow, smiling almost shyly. “No objection here.”

Baekhyun held his breath at the sight of Chanyeol’s bright eyes, staring into his with such promise and hope, along with a tinge of something more… something that scared him a little. He cupped Chanyeol’s jaw in his hands, a soft zap of static sending his insides wild. He kissed him lightly, stretching his neck forwards. Chanyeol tilted his head, pressing back, slipping his devilish tongue into Baekhyun’s mouth. They both slowly manoeuvred around each other so Baekhyun could swing one leg over his hips.

Despite the confidence that made Baekhyun who he was, his hands trembled ever so slightly as they pushed back a strand of Chanyeol’s hair. It curled slightly with sweat and heat. Chanyeol smiled reassuringly before attacking his neck, teeth grazing along his skin. Baekhyun whined when he guided himself to sit just over Chanyeol’s throbbing erection, hands finding his hips. Baekhyun’s head fell backwards as he began to sink down slowly, supported by Chanyeol’s bracing grip.

His fingers dug into his skin as Baekhyun slammed down as far as he could go, panting in the stunned silence pleasure cast upon them. Chanyeol’s hand gripped the back of his neck, and he brought them so close to each other that their foreheads touched. He listened to Baekhyun’s ragged breaths, whispering encouraging words until the pain was a distant memory, raw bliss filling his veins.

Baekhyun moved up and down slowly at first, clawing at Chanyeol’s shoulders for purchase. His thighs burned, aching with the heat. He began to circle his hips experimentally, and Chanyeol’s breathing became shallow. Baekhyun grinned, licking his lips as he continued his ministrations.

“Shit, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol muttered, in awe of the sight he made.

Chanyeol returned fire, thrusting up into him until they found some sort of rhythm. Skin slapped skin in the most obscene way possible, a shiver fighting its way through Baekhyun’s body.

He pushed harder and faster as time crawled past, doing so an inch away from each other’s mouth, revelling in the zapping air that manifested between their lips. When Baekhyun’s fitful breathing morphed into unobstructed moans and Chanyeol wasn’t too much better, he began to thrust harder, brows drawn in focus. He reached down, Baekhyun’s tough pace faltering as Chanyeol pumped him tightly, letting his fingernails drag across his slit at the head. Chanyeol wanted nothing more than to suck him off right then, but given the circumstances, that was not going to happen in that position. Perhaps next time.

Shit, Chanyeol hoped there’d be a next time.

Baekhyun clenched around Chanyeol, muscles shaking as he let his head fall into the crook of his neck. Chanyeol gave his all into one grand thrust, Baekhyun coming with his voice caught on a stuttered ‘fuck’ and something that might’ve been Chanyeol’s name—that was too much to analyse right then.

Baekhyun let himself rest for all of five seconds before shifting his hips again, biting his lip at the sting of sensitivity. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled into Chanyeol’s ear, warm breath fanning over his cheek. “C’mon, babe.”

With all of _that_ going on, it didn’t take Chanyeol very long to orgasm too. He was unsure of the time, the day or his name, but as he tied the condom off and threw it in the bin, he was sure that he wanted Baekhyun to stay. He’d fucked this part up before too many times, so he just said it straight, and Baekhyun grinned lazily at his bold confession, tired and satisfied.

“I was always going to stay, you idiot.”

After other necessary things were cleaned up, Chanyeol lay on his side, facing Baekyun while the other played with a strand of his hair. The frantic night had evolved into a quiet one, cool sweat sticky against them, but Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to go shower when such a beautiful, brilliant person was right there with him. He saw a thousand emotions that couldn’t be named in the lines of Baekhyun’s face, and didn’t bother restricting his smile. There’d definitely be a next time—they both knew that.

Chanyeol let his knuckles brush against Baekhyun’s cheek, heart throbbing when he closed his eyes, the smallest smile of content fixed upon his features. Chanyeol was entranced by him. He held onto Baekhyun’s hand, assuring himself that this, and whatever came from it, was real.

Park Chanyeol had fallen hard and fast for music, even if his passion had begun as an innocent, curious ember.

The same could be said for Byun Baekhyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas for other Chanbaek stories, let me know <3  
> I might add another chapter with a little more kink if you guys want it...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who left kudos and comments! This is for those who requested it :) Warning, a little bit of fuckery with restraints up ahead. They have a safe word, etc. etc. <3

Rays of shy, darkening sun sliced through the air, bringing out the dust and marks littering Baekhyun’s laptop. He blinked against the piercing light, yanking the blinds of the window closed. He hunched over his keyboard, legs uncomfortably numb beneath him. He squinted at the screen with glassy eyes, crescent shadows stark against the rest of his pale complexion.

“Oi, Channie,” he called out, pulling his own hair in frustration.

“Yeah?” Chanyeol responded, idly plucking at his guitar. He wore a wry smile, eyes assessing and compassionate as they flicked down to Baekhyun’s hands. He was trembling frantically, fingers curled into fists that would break his thumb if he actually attempted to punch something.

“Who the fuck decided seven flats were a good idea?” he whined earnestly, letting his limbs hang lifelessly beside him.

“Not your tutor anymore, Baek,” Chanyeol chided, smiling fondly regardless.

“You’re my boyfriend, you should do these things without payment,” Baekhyun huffed in frustration. He slammed his laptop lid closed, cursing his professor. The new teacher’s assistant, Min Yoongi, was younger than Baekhyun, but a rumoured musical prodigy—and he was ruthless. He gave out assignments left and right, expecting everyone to ‘just get it’. It was killing him.

Chanyeol snorted, flicking his hair where it fell into his face. The black strand fell right back down, covering the majority of his face, but Baekhyun could still make out the jut of his jaw. He let his eyes trace over him, following the outline of his terrible posture to his crooked fingers, back hunched over the fingerboard of his guitar, playing the same two notes repetitively. He sighed in frustration tinted with sadness, thrumming his oddly bent hand across the frets with an unnecessary force. 

Baekhyun’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You’re stuck again.”

The low light of the sun began to morph into an amalgamation of streetlamps and the occasional plane, dark sky dejected and cool. The manufactured light sprinkled itself across Baekhyun where he sat, knees hugged tightly to his chest. Chanyeol flicked his gaze down to the pile discarded laptop and notes by the side of the bed. “So are you.”

“I’m not stuck,” Baekhyun denied, pouting. He waved a scrap of paper around, what looked like a very shitty drawing of the iron throne sketched onto it (Chanyeol thought this with the utmost love in his heart). “I’m devising my plan to take over the world.”

Chanyeol grinned, sharp teeth glinting as he clicked his guitar case shut. “Oh, yeah? Am I included in this plan?”

Baekhyun pursed his lips, pen pressed against his cheek adorably. “I was thinking you could be my side bitch, whom I eventually marry. You know, the fairy-tale romance type thing, but with a _lot_ more sex—the type of stuff you read in fanfiction. We’ll rule the world ‘together,’ but you do all the work. I’ll write music, or something.”

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, taking slow, deliberate strides towards Baekhyun. He shivered involuntarily, tensing as he looked up. The man was too tall for his own good, and his dangerously playful eyes sent Baekhyun’s heart pulsing.

“ _I_ would be _your_ side bitch?”

Baekhyun’s mouth went dry. He shrugged, averting his gaze to the window. His cheeks flushed lightly, knees pressed a little too tightly together. He sucked in air between clenched teeth, clicking his knuckles and chucking his paper away. “Courtesan, officially,” he mumbled, lips slipping into an unconscious smile.

“Well then,” Chanyeol drawled mockingly, gently plucking Baekhyun’s pen from his grasp. “I suppose if you’re the one in control here, your birthday present has been rendered useless. Maybe next year, your _majesty_.”

Baekhyun whipped his head up, eyes wide and fiery. He pretended not to notice as Chanyeol darted his stare down to where his shirt line hung low, collarbone and silver necklace exposed temptingly. The chain glittered against his neck, matching his knowing countenance. “I like presents,” he stated carefully.

Chanyeol reached under the bed, pulling out a box stuffed with colourful tissue paper. As he passed it along to an eager Baekhyun, he grazed the edge of his lips along his earring, murmuring, “It’s more of a gift for me, anyway.”

Oh, he knew _exactly_ what type of present this was.

He fished the cuffs out by their chain. The metal clanked together as he twirled them around one finger, experimenting with the click-in locks. If he really wanted to, he could get them off once they were on, no key necessary, but he’d have to consciously stretch to reach the lock. It was sweet, he thought, glancing at Chanyeol in adoration. Kinky and kind, it summed him up entirely.

Chanyeol monitored his movements as he toyed with his gift. He bit down on the chain, speaking around gritted teeth. “Quality,” he remarked, tongue sliding across what was definitely legitimate metal—no beginner plastic. Chanyeol took the box and dropped it onto the floor, pulling vanilla scented lube out as well. His heart warmed. Chanyeol hated scented lubes, but Baekhyun happened to love them. He placed both on the bedside table for later utilisation.

Chanyeol’s eyes normally had a bright, cheerful hue to them, but now they glimmered in a way that sent chills through Baekhyun’s entire body. His mouth pulled up at the corner as he watched Chanyeol watch him, already inflated ego swelling with pride, and perhaps a dash of cockiness. Crooked fingers traced up his thigh, accompanied by a lazy look and a suggestive smile. Baekhyun shifted forwards, breaths chasing each other as they increased in frequency. There it was, again—that spark. It burned deliciously where their noses touched—perhaps the most innocent of all their caresses. The purest, the most wholesome, one of the most meaningful… perhaps the most passionate.

Baekhyun knew, though, that innocent actions weren’t nearly as rewarding as physical ones.

“Hi,” he murmured, lips a meagre hair’s breadth from Chanyeol’s. Baekhyun’s vision focused in on the tongue that curved over chapped, dry skin as the other licked his lips deliberately.

“Hey,” Chanyeol responded with a catlike grin. Baekhyun snaked a hand around to the back of his neck, pushing their foreheads together gently. He closed his eyes as Chanyeol’s fingers danced their way beneath his shirt, tracing strange, utterly unique patterns. His fingernails tickled, but that wasn’t the reason Baekhyun was smiling.

“It feels the same,” he whispered, too afraid to speak normally and let his voice break. He watched the faltering light cascade onto Chanyeol’s face, gazing at the dust swirling in the air between them, wondering how they had yet to breathe fire. “It still feels exactly like it did in that stupid closet.”

Chanyeol’s smile turned a little less salacious, though his eyes were never anything but genuine. “Yeah,” he chuckled, as if really thinking about it for the first time. “It… really does.”

Baekhyun’s breathing was rapid for a completely different reason, now. He’d been so afraid that it wouldn’t last, that the electricity would fade—but they were a solid three months in, and it all still felt new.

More emotional than he’d care to admit, Baekhyun gently pressed his lips to Chanyeol’s—his friend, his partner, his lover. Chanyeol tilted his jaw gently, pressing forwards with just as much tender affection. Baekhyun pushed a little further, capturing his bottom lip with unnaturally pointed teeth. Chanyeol’s instinct was to grip him tighter, and thanks to previous, in-depth discussions, he knew Baekhyun _really_ didn’t mind when he did that. He just smirked like he always did, laidback yet caring, relaxed yet ambitious.

Most people saw Baekhyun as completely carefree, but Chanyeol knew that wasn’t the case. He was a Slytherin, through and through; he was unsatisfiable, where music and writing were concerned. Chanyeol had begun to catch more and more of his secret intensity over time, and he’d glanced it once more now. He’d witnessed the composer, the pianist and the poet, but _now_ … well, now he saw a man who wanted to be fucked. For lack of a better phrase.

The air was wild with energy, static twitching across their lips as tongues sought each other out. If it were anyone else, Chanyeol would’ve flinched at the bitter tang of coffee and jarring scent of cigarettes, but when it was Baekhyun, he could never find it within himself to care. He pressed forwards for more, head pounding against his skull as Baekhyun’s sweet smile creeped into the completely impure scenario. They slipped into the dizziness of overwhelming feeling, bodies moving in tandem, Chanyeol swinging a leg between the other’s thighs. Their noses clanked together as Baekhyun’s head bounced against the pillow, grinning as giddy chuckles fell unbidden from their lips. Tongue and teeth danced the irresistible line of pain and pleasure, Chanyeol writing stories down Baekhyun’s neck as satisfying nails scraped beneath his shirt.

Chanyeol blindly reached his hand over to the bedside table. Metallic clanks pierced through the haze of dazed kissing, clinking as he deliberately scraped it on the bed frame, letting the sounds engulf them both. Baekhyun shivered in delightful anticipation. Chanyeol nipped his way along the striking cut of Baekhyun’s jaw, warm breath causing him to tighten his fists.

Baekhyun threw his shirt off as quickly as possible, knowing from past, humiliating experiences that if he didn’t want to drown in sweat, his shirt needed to come off _before_ the handcuffs went on.

Chanyeol smoothed his hands up his abdomen, tracing the sides of Baekhyun’s arms before gripping his wrists, loose enough for him to huff out laughter. Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, curling his fingers tighter in acceptance of the issued challenge as he pushed them above Baekhyun’s head. He barely glanced at the shackles he held before twisting the chain around the middle of the headboard’s pole. He locked both of Baekhyun’s hands in the cuffs, stare penetrating and focused. The other gazed back, determined to be strong, until he suddenly wasn’t.

It was so simple, how they slipped into their roles. In any other context, the things they said to each other would be relationship enders, but it worked here. They always started with teasing and coaxing kisses, continuing until one of them broke and the other followed suit.

Chanyeol dragged his teeth down Baekhyun’s chest, unzipping his jeans with sharp movements—which was impressive, given how clumsy he usually was. Being clumsy here wasn’t an option, though Baekhyun insisted he didn’t mind when they were taken out of the moment if it meant he ripped the condom and had to find another. After that, Chanyeol hadn’t taken long to become an expert in opening packaging quickly and precisely, and he’d never ripped it again.

Baekhyun arched his back, hissing when Chanyeol pulled away from his bucking hips. He tugged against his restraints, whining when teeth sunk swiftly into his flesh. He closed his eyes at the majestic tone of Chanyeol’s low laugh. “Eager?”

Baekhyun bit his lip on the pathetic moan threatening to give way when Chanyeol’s slender fingers manoeuvred their way beneath his briefs, skimming sensitive skin. The tutting clicks of Chanyeol’s tongue crawled closer, gripping Baekhyun’s chin and using his thumb to release his lower lip from its cage. “Trying to hide how needy you are?”

“No,” Baekhyun denied, eyes glancing away.

“Look at me.”

Baekhyun did. Stupid, foolish move. Chanyeol’s eyes were alight with a drive that rarely made an appearance in front of others, and he looked as if he was about to devour him whole. Baekhyun wanted him to.

His pulse raced as Chanyeol removed his own shirt and Baekhyun’s jeans.

“Breathing a little fast there, aren’t we?”

This must be what it feels like to overdose, Baekhyun thought. To be completely ensconced in what can make you better, until you become so addicted that it drowns you. It was perfectly aligned limitation.

Chanyeol grinned mischievously as he ran a lingering hand down Baekhyun’s exposed body, adventurous fingers sliding his briefs down. He mewled as Chanyeol skirted around his length, but stopped short when his fingers brushed along his tense rim. He tried to relax, but blood pumped through his body at a merciless pace, and Chanyeol didn’t feel like being nice. He went down on him without warning, hollowing his cheeks around Baekhyun’s strained dick.

“Shit, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun panted out, attempting to reign in his groans. A finger slick with delightfully scented lube pressed into him forcefully, and his breath hitched in the back of his throat.

 Chanyeol flicked sinful eyes up, continuing only to stop. He licked his lips, slinking back up to smirk at him, face to face. “What do you want, Baekhyun?”

 He twisted his fingers this way and that at, pace leisurely. Baekhyun gasped, mouth remaining open until Chanyeol latched onto his lips again. Their tongues were erratic and their teeth were volatile, though they always remained loving, respect delving beyond what they liked during sex. “Please,” Baekhyun begged raggedly. “For fuck’s sake, move along!”

 "Hush,” Chanyeol growled, taking his time getting out of his own clothing. Baekhyun however, was an impatient person by nature, and as soon as he could he locked his legs around Chanyeol. He pulled him closer fiercely, and in return was dealt a warning glare that left him breathless.

“ _Now_ ,” Baekhyun demanded.

Chanyeol cocked his head, calculating gaze softening around the edges. He let his fingers twirl their way over Baekhyun’s twitching erection, glistening with spit, relishing the way his fingers gripped onto the chain holding his hands in place. As much as Baekhyun’s instincts pleaded to be released, a louder part of him was soaking up so much pleasure he was sure it would kill him.

When two fingers rammed into him, Baekhyun moaned in shock, hips lifting in unapologetic circles. Chanyeol watched carefully as the lines on Baekhyun’s face contorted and smoothed with each curl of his fingers. He watched the sweat glimmer on his neck, blushing when he noticed the marks he left. He brought one hand up to push back a strand of hair recently dyed silver, causing Baekhyun’s eyes to blink open. He offered Chanyeol a smile too small and innocent for the situation before lifting himself up to peck his lips.

Although he had mastered ripping a condom open, Chanyeol did not believe in himself enough to attempt opening the packet with his teeth. That only bothered him at all because Baekhyun _always_ pulled it off. Right then, though, neither really cared how he opened it. It just needed to be opened and pulled onto his dick as fast as humanly possible—and so it was.

Baekhyun used the cage his feet made to pull them flush, the head of Chanyeol’s length breaching his rim. He counted his breaths, involuntary stutters falling from his lips as the stretch burned wickedly. He blocked out the pain. “I’m okay babe, move.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chanyeol muttered, groaning viciously as he pulled back slightly, only to thrust in as far as he could. Baekhyun let out a high-pitched whine, lashing violently against his restraints. His cheeks flushed an endearing shade of rosy pink, thick eyelashes fluttering unpredictably. Chanyeol forced himself to go slowly at first, whispering praises against Baekhyun’s skin, scattering kisses and bites along his neck. Pleasure resonated through every inch of them, too much to fathom, let alone describe—and they were both literature students.

Their chests breathed together in erratic harmony. Gritting his teeth, Baekhyun issued a shaky command of ‘faster’, to which Chanyeol happily obliged. Obscene sounds filled the silent air, though the atmosphere was anything but peaceful. Baekhyun’s heart was hammering against his skin, pulse threatening to combust entirely. He opened his eyes and stared at Chanyeol, a mere inch from him, and used what strength he had to lift his hips up and kiss him.

Chanyeol rammed into him again and again, all too familiar with the layout of Baekhyun’s body. He watched for when his hands tightened against his restraints, he listened for the choked groans, found his prostate, and abused it relentlessly.

“C-chanyeol,” he stuttered, blinking through the darkness. His head rolled to the side, breath coming in stunted gasps.

“C’mon, Baek,” Chanyeol murmured, speaking against him. He moved a hand to card through his silver-white hair, curling with perspiration. It was an innocent action for all of a millisecond. He yanked on it, diving down to give him a bruising kiss, tongue hungry and teeth venomous. Chanyeol reached a hand to pump him, slide made easy by precum and saliva, and he continued at a brutal pace until Baekhyun was blind with pleasure. With one last snap of his hips, Chanyeol came, growling encouragements into Baekhyun’s ear until he gasped lowly, clutching the burning metal of his handcuffs.

His limbs liquefied, body burning. Sweat sifted into the air, the aroma of sex heavy around them. Chanyeol kept his gaze trained on Baekhyun, lifting his hands to free him from the chain. His shoulders slumped.

“Fucking Christ,” Baekhyun mumbled, running a trembling hand through his hair. Chanyeol buried his grin in his neck.

“Happy birthday, Baek.”

***

After the annoying, necessary cleaning had been done, Chanyeol watched carefully as Baekhyun inspected his wrists with a frown. They were bruised lightly, a ring of darkening yellow enclosing them.

“Did I hurt you?” Chanyeol asked, lip a prisoner of his anxiety. They had a safe word, but a past relationship of his had ended because it hadn’t been used properly—he always had to be safe, always had to ask.

“Just thinking,” Baekhyun soothed with a smile, eyes turning into heart-warming crescents. “You told me once that chaining a guy up was your fantasy. How was it?”

Chanyeol blinked, recalling in vivid detail _exactly_ what he had been imagining when he admitted that. He never dreamed it would be that good. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” he confessed with a chuckle. “I did always imagine that guy being you.”

Baekhyun’s eyes glinted as Chanyeol sat beside him. “Oh?”

A promise of round two rung between them in unuttered syllables, but Chanyeol needed a break, so he refused to elaborate on his fantasies. Instead, they lay curled against one another on Chanyeol’s cramped bed, in his cramped room, the happiest either had ever been.

Chanyeol got lost in his thoughts. He glanced over at his guitar case, set beside his lonely keyboard. Brows drawn in thought, his mind swirled with fear. Baekhyun saw it instantaneously.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into the melancholy air.

Chanyeol let his gaze wander back to him slowly, eyes shimmering with uncertainty. “Jongin… told me once that he’d have no regrets dying on stage.”

Baekhyun smiled gently, fingers tracing the edges of his face. He cupped his jaw in one hand, looking from Chanyeol to the intruments he’d dedicated his life to. He sighed with the softness of a feather landing. “Life is only a path full of efforts, Chanyeol.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 I want to add chapters in, but I'm out of scenarios-- please help me, I love this pairing too much to leave it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my loves. A few things:
> 
> 1\. This chapter is unbeta'd. It's been so long I just wanted to upload it straight away, but I will edit soon!  
> 2\. I have no idea where the fuck this story is going, I'm just writing whatever comes into my head. That means the timeline will be real messy.  
> 3\. I started pole dancing, and that's what inspired this chapter. Couldn't think of a good dancer alias, tho. I went with the first thing that came to mind.
> 
> Here we go! <3

It was black and cold that night. The planes in the sky blinked like stars, and the rain sighed as it fell, gentle compared to the cacophony surrounding it. Tires screeched their way across the road, creeping as the world slowly shifted forwards.

It was riotous, indoors and out. The halls sang with the clipped steps of rushing performers’ heels, Baekhyun rolling his shoulders. He flinched as the speakers rang with static. The lights morphed together as he looked out from behind the curtains, counting his breaths as his mind ran wild. He blinked as someone jolted him out of his trance, turning to meet the crinkled eyes of Park Jimin, followed closely by the mischievous grin of Minseok.

Jimin swung an arm around his shoulder. “So, you’re back here?”

Pushing a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead, Baekhyun smiled back as genuinely as he could. “Jongin said he had an opening, and I needed the job.”

Minseok leant against a chair set aside for his later performance, chin rested on his fist. He gave him this small, knowing look that Baekhyun couldn’t shake off. “I’ve seen you practicing at the studio.”

Baekhyun nodded, reaching to scratch his neck apprehensively. It’d been so long since he’d done a show like this, and he forgot how fucking nervous he got before he had to go on. He breathed steadily, counting each heaving gasp. Jimin observed him sympathetically.

The speaker on stage came to life, calling ‘Xiumin’ to the stage. Minseok’s eyes glimmered wildly, glazed over from the rush of applause that echoed through the stage. He flashed them both a toothy smile, slinking away, chair dragging behind him. A riveting base pounded through the atmosphere, and Baekhyun watched in awe as Minseok transformed into someone else entirely. Suddenly, his playful, charismatic high school friend was a sexy, confident performer, complete with eyeliner and silver shorts.

Baekhyun’s breath left him in awe, opening his mouth to say something to Jimin, but turned to discover him looking somewhere else entirely. His fingers fidgeted with the sleek choker tight around his neck as he gazed off to the other side of the stage. Baekhyun followed his stare to the small tech booth in the opposite wing, where a short, sleepy man spoke into his headset and adjusted dials ever so slightly.

“Ah, Min Yoongi,” he said, lips tight together to control his laughter. It still entertained him that his professor’s assistant worked part time at this sort of place.

Jimin heard him, snapping out of his trance. “What?” he demanded.

“You like people who use the backstage door, then?”

Jimin’s face flushed, ineloquent stammers pouring from his lips, but he didn’t stay embarrassed for long. He glanced over to Yoongi again, who caught his gaze and smirked, giving him a little wave. Jimin melted. “Goes by Suga when he DJs,” he sighed wistfully.

Baekhyun laughed until Jongin came along and ordered them to shut up. Although a bar and noisy, apparently everyone could still hear them out there. They moved to sit in the hall just beside the wings.

Baekhyun slid his heels on, cursing as he struggled. He could hear his own pulse frantic and prominent in his ear, palms sweaty and legs trembling. He’d practiced in these shoes a million times and they felt more comfortable than his runners, but the spike that held him up still felt paper thin. He pulled as his carefully styled hair, trying to get a fucking grip when he felt gentle hands take his own.

“Breathe,” Jimin coaxed, bringing his palms to his abdomen. He closed his eyes, persuading his blood to simmer, not boil. It didn’t matter; he was called to the stage, and it ran thick, static jumping across his skin. He looked up, eyes meeting a grinning Jimin. A wild rush went through him. “Go fuck their shit up, Baek.”

 

Park Chanyeol loved a lot of things. He loved green tea, BDSM and My Hero Academia, but even he had a limit.

He hated parties. Not that he didn’t like drinking or his friends, but there was a certain nauseating scent that clung to night clubs. It warped his sense of time, so the seconds were minutes and the minutes hours, until he fell silent and brooding. He couldn’t do that tonight, though. He had to be the best friend of the groom; he had to keep up the mood, buy extra drinks, and keep himself half sober in case someone threw up.

Chanyeol was sure it would be Seungcheol, the man of the hour, who passed out on his couch at six in the morning, but tonight he was allowed to get smashed. Hell, if Chanyeol was less than a week from marrying Jeonghan, he would be sloshed before nine.

Breathing in stale, sweaty air, Chanyeol sipped his drink and checked his phone, pointedly ignoring the seductive men on stage. When he was with straight friends, they went to straight clubs, and shouting ‘I’m gay!’ at the top of your lungs seemed to let the female workers know that he didn’t want a lap dance, but now he was surrounded by a lot of attractive men and he wanted out. He admired pole dancers, genuinely saw beauty and strength in the bodies that twisted around the aerial hoops, but stripping was something that got him a little too turned on.

And he’d never been to a gay club before.

Seungcheol always had Jeonghan, Junmyeon was with Yixing, Sehun was bi, so he didn’t have a problem, and the only other person within his immediate friendship circle who would ever go to a place like this with him was Baekhyun… and Baekhyun wasn’t an option anymore. Baekhyun’s surprisingly large collection of gay friends weren’t an option, either.

So, he hid behind his hand, playing solitaire on his phone. He looked up at Junmyeon’s mocking laughter to glare at him, sighing at the sight of Yixing sucking the soul out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” he accused, crossing his arms. Yixing grinned, Junmyeon giggling between kisses.

“I’m showing you what action looks like,” he cackled.

Chanyeol snorted, looking around to try and spot Seungcheol. Between the masses of bodies, he couldn’t see much—though he did spy Jaebum… exploring his sexuality. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, as straight-as-a-ruler Im Jaebum grinding all up against some dude. He turned to share this piece of news, when the music reduced itself to a dull murmur and an announcer with a Daegu twang announced the next act.

He stilled at the name, but managed to shake it off. ‘Overdose’ was an obvious alias, and anyone could’ve chosen it. Baekhyun had mentioned that as his nickname once, a long time ago. It didn’t mean anything.

People around him cheered, but it was mostly the roaming performers who wolf whistled their colleague onto the stage. Yet, there were other, distant shouts of encouragement and what sounded like surprise.

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows. Whoever this was, they were popular. A slithering bass captivated his ears, and he vaguely registered the memorable, sultry beat of Taemin’s ‘Move.’ Despite himself, he found his eyes trailing the slim figure as they stalked onto the stage, hidden in mist until long fingers came to curl around one of the poles. He let his head hang, back to the crowd as his shoulders rose and fell heavily.

Overdose’s head rolled to the side, an arm laced with lean muscle reaching towards the sky. He hooked one leg around the pole. His thighs were painted with glitter, shimmering as his sleek, silver heel clicked to the beat. Slowly, he lifted his knee to sit atop his other, hoisted gracefully from the ground. He spun leisurely, deliberately, until he wrapped his legs around the poll and gripped with his thighs, spinning as the pre-chorus built and built. His movements were abstract, lyrical, with an impossible sharpness Chanyeol couldn’t describe. There was something familiar in the sharpness of his jaw that caught him off guard, but Chanyeol blinked and the face was gone. He imagined it, he told himself.

He continued to tell himself that until he rose into some delicate, powerful pose, and his features were easy to distinguish in the dim purple light.

 

Baekhyun hoisted himself into a spin, ankle burning where it held its twisted grip. Slowing to the pace of a music box’s doll, he let one wrist slide down parallel to his waist. He straightened his legs, thighs gripping for dear life. Swinging a fluid arm around to one side, he lifted his chin to the ceiling. He lifted both arms out, imagining wings as he tensed, holding the swan pose for as long as he could.

Though the light was low, he could see everyone in the crowd, if only for a moment. That instant lasted a lifetime and yet a nanosecond—enough for him to glimpse a face that was all too familiar.

He ducked away a beat earlier than he meant to, praying that the flow didn’t seem disturbed. His heart pounded, but the chorus was too close for any breath to be spared. He set his jaw, brought his knees into a faster tuck, and snapped into ‘hello boys’, legs a near-straight line as he winked at the crowd before spinning into a brutally slow tinker bell turn. He might’ve smirked in the direction of one particularly infuriating man, but he blamed that on the heat of the moment. Performing was all that mattered. El Dorado wasn’t just a club for gay guys to get drunk a week before their wedding day; this was an establishment where pole competitions were held, and the performers didn’t strip. Baekhyun had always considered this _more_ than dancing—it was a sport, it was music. It was powerful and elegant simultaneously. He started in high school on a dare, acquired more bruises in an hour than he had the last year, and kept on going. He might’ve been paid to show off his body, but it was more than that.

He pushed his legs up and down to the floor, unapologetically thrusting up against the pole. The cat calls from the crowd hardly reached his ears. He turned to the side, squatting. He swayed his hips, subtle and innocent, but then he jumped to his feet, ass first. He carded his hair with a sweating hand, moving in swift, lethal body rolls. He leaned back on his heels, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his snug, black shorts.

He dared to search for that face again, and nearly buckled at the intensity of his stare. Those eyes hadn’t changed, though it seemed his taste in clothing had evolved.

Baekhyun licked his lips, ran his hand up and down the pole for dramatic effect, and took four formidable steps around it, strutting with as much poise as he could muster. He grasped the pole again, gritting his teeth at the slippery perspiration that made this choreography enormously harder, and fan kicked into an invert. He curved his limbs, ligaments melding to the beat, until he found a pace fast enough for him to spider climb to the top. One leg supporting him, he spun back to the middle, until he could take his hands off the pole completely.

His muscles quivered from the strain and Park fucking Chanyeol’s piercing gaze, but the show went on. Pushing both palms against one side of the pole, he breathed deeply, legs stretching out. Shifting his grip, he continued to stretch until he was holding himself above the ground with only his hands, body a solid diagonal line. He twirled to the ground, letting his heart pulse with the beat, simply dancing, queuing the audience for cheers. He got no whistling from Chanyeol, only bewildered eyes and a subtle lip bite. Baekhyun was so past flustered at that point that he only grinned, jerking his chin towards him in challenge, swinging around the pole.

He danced on and on past the point of regular exertion, focusing on keeping his appearance relaxed, even as his body ached to pant. All the while, he felt the stare of a lover he thought he’d gotten over raking heated, scandalous burns into his tingling skin, heart racing with the entrancing beat of the music.

All too soon and not quickly enough, Baekhyun strode off the stage sweaty and disoriented, but only stumbled when he was sure prying eyes couldn’t see him trip over his own heels. He collapsed in Jimin’s arms, heaving as his knees shook violently. He vaguely registered whispers in his ear, but his head thumped to the swing of the melody, blood rushing through his limbs as he attempted to rid himself of trembles. He couldn’t; Chanyeol’s burning gaze was vivid in his mind.

 

Chanyeol refused to admit he was abusing his connections with the tech crew. He wrote music with Yoongi, was childhood friends with Jihoon; he merely went backstage to ask how they were doing. The two stoic bastards had hugged him stiffly before giving him directions to the changing rooms, blunt and honest as they’d always been. They often got on his nerves, but he found himself grateful of their perceptive natures. Yoongi had snorted at his blush as Jihoon kicked him out of their booth.

Assuming that many went in and out of the doors scarcely clothed, Chanyeol waited outside the door, leaning against the wall. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hair on the back of his neck standing as he thought through the haze of lust Baekhyun had unleashed. He began to recall years of aching and tears, beginning to cave into himself. He felt like he was going to throw up. He shouldn’t have sought him out, he should’ve stayed with Seungcheol like a better friend would’ve. He gazed at the wall, licking dry lips until he heard the soft pad of bare feet came to a halt. A small intake of breath accompanied it, a tiny sound that destroyed him, and Chanyeol inhaled the scent of perspiration before shifting his eyes.

Baekhyun stared at him, lips parted, glancing over the length of his body unapologetically. Chanyeol stifled the urge to crumble right there, remaining calm, even as the air turned tense. He took his hands out of his pockets, thumbs hooking into the waistband as Baekhyun took a good, long look at him. He raised an eyebrow, shifting his body to fully face him.

“You’ve changed,” Baekhyun stuttered, flushing as his mouth betrayed him.

Chanyeol blinked down at himself. He’d been aware of his evolved taste in clothing, but it had been in the back of his mind, a gradual metamorphosis. It all hit him now as he remembered himself from the early university years, all geeky shirts and fairy floss hair, plain jeans and basic runners. Now his boots were slightly heeled, he dared to wear a crimson blazer and his jeans were ripped, silver chains dangling from the pockets. He swept a hand through his black hair, conscious of the dark red that only glimmered in the light and the eyeliner he’d never been to good at drawing on. He looked back up at Baekhyun, lip twitching into a smile at the familiar scent of vanilla that wafted through the air, even after he’d been spinning around a pole. His whole body tingled at the image of him grinding onto a pole, almost shivering at the intense vision. “So have you.”

Baekhyun admired the heels in his grasp, eyes glinting in the light as he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

Chanyeol cocked his head, questioning. “Oh?”

Baekhyun pursed his lips, walking mechanically into the change rooms. Chanyeol followed him in, paying the other performers no heed. They didn’t care about him, anyway.

“You hold yourself… differently,” Baekhyun mumbled, glancing over his shoulder. “Why are you following me?”

“I never knew you did pole dancing,” Chanyeol evaded the question.

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of things you didn’t know,” Baekhyun snapped. “Why the fuck are you here, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol sighed, itching the back of his neck. He could respond by telling him about Seungcheol and Jeonghan, but he knew that’s not what Baekhyun was asking. Giving him that smartass response would only continue to enrage him further. He found himself searching for an answer; why exactly _was_ he here?

“I wanted to see you,” he answered as honestly as he could without gushing about how hot he was on stage. “I missed Korea.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “You missed Korea, eh? I thought you said you needed a break from _Korea_.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes at the sarcasm plaguing his words. He’d meant that genuinely, and was affronted by the shift in tone. One minute he was being checked out, and the next he was slapped with sardonic humour. He winced, realising it was probably what he deserved. “Baekhyun, that was a long time ago.”

“It’s barely been three years.”

Chanyeol took a deep breath, accepting that even though the malice in his voice didn’t make it sound like he was over it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but it was for the best, wasn’t it? Neither of us knew who we were, or what we wanted.”

“That was no reason to take off to Tokyo,” Baekhyun spat, ripping off his shirt to clamber into a white jumper. “Or was it Sydney? I lost track after a week.”

Chanyeol flinched, the words stinging, no matter how obvious the bluff. He decided that wasn’t the best moment to correct him on where he’d been, though it was difficult to reign in his desire to shout that there was more than one city in Australia. “Talking wouldn’t have helped.”

“You didn’t even try,” Baekhyun muttered. He noticed everyone else in the room had escaped, sensing the tension between them. He began to panic, tying the string of his tracksuit pants and slipping into his shoes, forgoing socks in favour of bolting. “Nice chat, Channie. I’m off.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol pleaded. He reached out to grasp his arm, but pulled back when he caught the freaked glint in his eye. “Can’t we just… talk? As friends?”

Baekhyun halted in his tracks, wavering despite the grand speech. Chanyeol was too damn perceptive, and latched on while he still could.

“No alcohol required, no comments on the fact that you’re secretly an amazing dancer, no obligation to ever see me again afterwards.”

Baekhyun took a moment to flick his eyes over Chanyeol again. He remembered what those calloused fingertips felt like grazing against his skin, could still hear the strumming of his guitar. He remembered how that bent nose nuzzled into him at night, how he liked to paint his toenails, how the back of his neck was the most sensitive part of his body. He remembered how the air between them felt electric, could feel the low humming of it sparking to life even then, recalled in excruciating detail the first time they met, the first time they kissed, the first time they’d dared to hold hands in public. He remembered the lines of his palm and what his crooked fingers had felt like when he fucked him open, what they’d felt like to clutch when he’d had his first panic attack.

He’d clung on to so much information, trying to desperately forget, but he was human. The part of him that still hoped turned his body weak, and he huffed in frustration, terribly conflicted. “The only comments about my dancing will be flattery.”

Chanyeol sensed opportunity, recalling how Baekhyun had always relished praise. He decided to push the boundaries just a little, edging a step closer. Excitement spiked in his core when he didn’t move away. “In that case,” he muttered eyes alight and wandering, “I have a lot to say.”

Baekhyun’s mind flashed with images of trysts past, and he bit his lip. He might’ve just made a stupid mistake, or the best decision of his life.

He supposed he’d find out which by the end of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~~~ the comments were so lovely last time :D  
> Smut next chapter, promise.  
> Feel free to suggest scenes/prompts! I want to start a new story and write more for my other current work, so anything you think of would be appreciated.
> 
> Have a good day! (it's midnight for me tho lol)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for why this is so late, so I'm gonna throw it at you and hide.  
> I made a mood board, here's a link! https://twitter.com/Rhaenyra45/status/1024592845980585984

“I’m not a hooker, fuck off!” Baekhyun shouted, glaring at yet another entranced fan of his earlier performance. He slumped into his seat, stealing Yixing’s shot. The man said nothing, kind-hearted to a fault and somewhat terrified of Baekhyun.

Junmyeon threw his head back, laughing at the disgruntled look on Baekhyun’s face. “Three years ago, you would’ve given him a hand job.”

Chanyeol swirled the liquid in his glass, amber sheen glittering. He flicked his eyes to the side, watching Baekhyun carefully as he crinkled his nose at the thought. Chanyeol couldn’t help the twitching, hesitant smile that crawled across his lips, every one of Baekhyun’s expressions tugging on forgotten memories. He blinked as he remembered the way Baekhyun had scrunched up his face like that the first time he said ‘I love you.’

_Finally. What took you so fucking long?_

Junmyeon and Yixing were a little preoccupied, alternating between obvious sexting and sloppily sucking each other’s face off. Chanyeol gulped under the pressure of uncomfortable quiet, and he wasn’t the only one.

Baekhyun found himself spiralling in the gentle silence between words, forcing himself to stay as relaxed as Chanyeol appeared. Somehow, the dorky giant had morphed into a chill, sexy musician, a mere shadow of who he had been before. Baekhyun didn’t like being the nervous one, so he threw up a shield of sarcasm and refused to let him through.

“So, why are you lot here? Happy hour?” Baekhyun asked, glancing at the trio.

“Jeonghan proposed to Seungcheol in the middle of an argument,” Chanyeol shrugged, inhaling the scent of perspiring bodies, the dance floor thickly packed and closing in. Baekhyun stiffened at the unspoken words between them, seething as Chanyeol threw him an indescribable look.

_Like you did._

He fiddled with a cigarette between his fingers. Baekhyun stared quizzically, gripping onto his sides with white knuckles. Chanyeol hadn’t been a smoker the last time they’d spoken.

“They’re flying to Australia in a few days. They’re, uh, gonna stay with my friend over there.”

Baekhyun pursed his lips, stifling a traitorous sigh. His eyes wandered, shoes scuffing the floor as he recognised hesitation in Chanyeol’s tone. “Boyfriend?”

Chanyeol’s gaze lingered on him, and it sent unwelcome sparks shooting down his spine, blood zinging with a familiar, torturous feeling. “A female friend. Her name is Rose.”

Baekhyun hummed, glancing about and tapping out an uneven rhythm with his spindly fingers. He narrowed his eyes when a pink tongue came to lathe Chanyeol’s dry bottom lip, eyes meeting. Baekhyun turned away. The air was hot, but within their own little snow globe the atmosphere was piercing and cool, rare, colourful lights filtering the light of dim bar light. The thrumming of the club put Baekhyun on edge.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he muttered.

Chanyeol observed the way he forced his billowing breath to calm, smirking minutely. _Only when I’m nervous_. “I didn’t know you quit,” he said, letting his eyes sweep over Baekhyun’s face carefully.

Baekhyun bit his tongue as old memories began to resurface, pain and pleasure alike. Every word they said to each other now was so calculated, so precise that it clawed at Baekhyun’s mind—they’d never been like this before. They were never meant to be so unfamiliar with each other, they were partners. At least, they should’ve been. Somehow, Park Chanyeol’s thick skull and gigantic brain weren’t able to handle that concept. The fading ache of love stabbed him in the gut all too suddenly. He snorted bitterly at the absurdity of it all, clicking his knuckles.

Chanyeol downed his fiery whisky, locking his memories away, along with the regret of treating a glass of spirit like a common shot. Baekhyun tilted his head, straw millimetres from his parted lips. “What did Australia do to you?” he snorted, eyes comically wide.

Chanyeol rested his chin in one hand, offering a grin. “Travelling teaches you to be open to new experiences.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. Chanyeol ran a finger around the rim of his glass, studying Baekhyun’s skin as it gleamed in the fluorescent light. He’d thrown on a pair of round glasses once inside, claiming he couldn’t read without them anymore. They only served to frame his sharp features, resting a little low on the curve of his nose. Make up still lined his face, glitter trailing down his neck. Chanyeol’s fist coiled around his glass as he remembered a time when Baekhyun would ask _him_ to leave a track of marks along his collarbone. Chanyeol would always oblige, then regret the morning after.

 _I asked for the damn things, Channie,_ Baekhyun had laughed. _They’re hot._

Finally drawn from their infatuation, distracted from their own horniness, Yixing whistled lowly at the silence that stretched between the two. Junmyeon kicked him underneath the table, whispering into his ear frantically. Chanyeol finally snapped out of his daze to realise he’d been staring and swallowed, coughing as Yixing’s playful smile fell in shock.

Baekhyun’s eyes were glued to his long island iced tea, face void of emotion, eyes flickering with feelings. He felt like a glass of water filled to the brim, that at any moment he could overflow—that a vignette would be thrown over his vision, that the voices in his head would be replaced with white noise. Having Chanyeol there meant so many things. It was exhilarating, and terrifying. The memories that resurfaced filled him with elation and an unmistakable aching, right in the centre of his chest.

_“Life is only a path full of efforts, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun sighed._

_“But I haven’t been putting any effort in,” Chanyeol whispered. “Maybe I need to take a different path.”_

Baekhyun closed his eyes against the stare burning into his profile, counting his breaths. “I’m sure you _experienced_ many new people. Perhaps you should go back to them.”

Even Junmyeon flinched at the harsh, cutting words, pulling an eager Yixing away to dance without so much as a word. He threw them both sympathetic looks.

Chanyeol didn’t blink, attempting to read Baekhyun’s stiff body language. “I suppose I deserved that.”

His eyes flicked over to Chanyeol all on their own, his gut twisting when—even behind this new, composed face—hurt still pulled Chanyeol’s features into a frown he didn’t suit. Chanyeol’s feelings had always made themselves clear, and he couldn’t help the wave of melancholy longing that overcame him. He’d sat in this very bar three years ago, drinking himself into a stupor after they’d broken each other’s heart… yet perhaps, Chanyeol being Chanyeol, the future had been written right on his face the entire time.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Baekhyun groaned, rubbing his temples. His sinuses throbbed. “I thought I was over this shit. Why am I even here?”

Chanyeol, careful and earnest, didn’t know how to answer that kindly. At a loss for words, he simply muttered, “To drink.”

Baekhyun snorted, raising his glass and an eyebrow. “A-fucking-men.”

It was horribly stiff, but less so as time wore on. Never awkward, Baekhyun noted, but not quite comfortable. Chanyeol, despite the new, glossy exterior, was much the same. Open, yet reserved. Bubbly, yet calm. He’d stayed an enigma, a symposium of contradictions—the same man Baekhyun had fallen for. Hard.

His gestures were a little less maniacal, words a touch keener, gaze and posture overwhelmingly confident. The problem with Baekhyun was that he found himself weak to the same things he was the very first time he’d met Chanyeol. Before then, even—when he’d first seen him, in the library, arguing passionately over _Lolita_. Sehun had leaned back in his chair, face blank and eyebrows drawn, attempting to block out the raging words of the man beside him.

_“What’s the big deal? I just said we shouldn’t be studying it,” Sehun drawled._

_“It’s fucked up, yes,” Chanyeol conceded. “But that’s the point! The poets, the mad and lovers all share one mind, remember? We have to acknowledge the intelligence of a paedophile, just as we applaud the genius of a maniac! Do you know how messed up Edgar Allen Poe was? Are we gonna condemn the Pit and the Pendulum? At least_ recognise _that—”_

Baekhyun had watched out of his peripherals until he found himself staring, unabashedly gawking at the gorgeous, zealous man before him. The librarian had come to take him away for disturbing quiet, and he’d begun to pepper Sehun with questions soon after.

 _“Say you need a tutor or something,”_ Sehun had caved, exhaling heavily. _“At least pretend like I’m not just handing one of my closest friends over to you. He’s not a piece of meat.”_

Chanyeol was so much more than a piece of meat. Not his first love, perhaps not even his last—that was for them to decide. Baekhyun heaved an inward sigh; whether or not the night sent them on their way to reconciliation, he doubted any love he had would ever be more intense than theirs. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Baekhyun studied the lines of muscle threatening the seams of his blazer, giggling along at his commentary of recent anime episodes, grinning despite himself. Everything was the same, but everything was different. His face was still carved from marble, eyes still shaded by crescent black circles, red hair a teasingly dark shade. Baekhyun caught himself eyeing his tinted lips more than a few times, but Chanyeol wasn’t much better—worse, if anything.

He let his eyes drag up, meeting Baekhyun’s dead on, until his breaths began to sharpen.

Baekhyun averted his gaze, ducking his head to sip his drink. He spotted Junmyeon dancing, waving his hands in the air in support of Yixing, nailing his body rolls. Eyes brightening, he shoved at Chanyeol. “Move, I wanna dance.”

“I hope you realise you’re on your own,” Chanyeol warned. “Parties and clubs still aren’t my thing.”

Baekhyun merely cackled, hips swaying as he strode away. Silently, he took a deep breath in, summoning what courage he still had within himself to stomp onto the dancefloor.

Checking the time, it was nearly half past one in the morning, but Chanyeol’s body felt more alert and alive than ever. The same couldn’t be said for Seungcheol, who pounced on him not ten seconds after Baekhyun left.

“When I die from liver poisoning,” he rasped, head banging onto the table, “Tell Jeonghan I love him.”

Chanyeol patted his shoulder, letting his chin fall into his hands. He whined, watching Baekhyun longingly. “What do you say to someone after you’ve left them?”

Seungcheol pouted, reaching over and pinching his cheeks. “Do you regret it?”

Swatting him away, Chanyeol rolled his shoulders back. “No—maybe. I don’t know,” he babbled dramatically. “It feels the same, but different, like… like…”

Seungcheol, eyes a tad sober, looked over to where Baekhyun and Junmyeon were having the time of their lives, dancing with the stupid amount of confidence they’d always radiated, toothy smiles stretched across the length of their faces. “Like reading the lyrics of a song for the first time?”

Chanyeol didn’t nod, didn’t shake his head. He was accustomed to Seungcheol’s random bursts of wisdom, the older brother he’d never had. Instead he gazed, mesmerised by Baekhyun’s Cheshire grin, eyes sparkling with pure joy. When the glee stayed shimmering as he turned to return the stare, warmth resonated deep within his chest. “It feels like coming home.”

Baekhyun moved each limb, each finger, in an excruciatingly slow manner. His infuriatingly beautiful eyes were lidded, sultry, casual outfit affronting amidst the chaos of the night. His tracksuit pants hung low, jumper hitched ever so slightly. The strip of skin revealed through his grooving movement tempted Chanyeol to look away while he still could—but he didn’t dare disobey eyes like those. Despite the nature of their previous relationship, Baekhyun had always exuded this unique, singular aura of power. It was like, if he so pleased, he could switch who commanded and who submitted with a click of his fingers. He’d experimented with this influence more than once.

Chanyeol would’ve missed the subtle glances if he’d blinked. Entranced, as he’d always been by Baekhyun, he trailed the slithering path he took between the tiring crowd, watched him slip through the bathroom door.

Seungcheol barked a drunken laugh from beside him. “Woah, those were ‘fuck me’ eyes to rival Nala’s.”

Chanyeol murmured an apology, gave him enough money for a taxi, and threaded his way through the throng of bodies. Intoxicated excitement bubbled deep within in his veins, thick blood coursing through every inch of him. It seemed his body, with no instruction whatsoever, was beginning to remember what it felt like to be in confined spaces with Byun Baekhyun.

 

As he recoiled against the grimy bathroom wall, Baekhyun’s whole body ran wild with trembles. His fingers itched to move, to touch, but Chanyeol was taking his sweet time, so his nails dug into his own biceps. In his core, he distantly registered the aching of his muscles, the earlier performance a test of his recent endurance training, but his brain was alight with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. It was this sense of ominous pleasure, of feeling so overwhelming he would always run back to it.

 _I love you,_ he’d huffed. _I’m not giving up. Why can’t you see how good your music is? Why are you so positive when it comes to everyone but yourself?_

 _Positive?!_ Chanyeol had barked back. _Since when have_ I _been the positive one? I just think I need time—I don’t know where music will take me! The industry’s not exactly a kind one._

 _What will it take, Chanyeol? What will it take for you to realise that I am_ all _in, no matter your profession or success?_

Baekhyun shoved his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit pants, any slight sense of regret encompassed and overwhelmed by the pounding of his pulse, the keen racing of his heart. Sweat permeated the air, along with the distinctive scent of urine, but it was as good a place as any. Baekhyun didn’t think either of them could wait until they’d gotten to an apartment, and the semi-public, walled area awoke a deep nostalgia within him that he could never quite destroy.

_“Nothing’s going to happen,” Chanyeol reassured._

_“And what if I want it to?”_

_“Then happen it shall.”_

_“Idiot.”_

The door slid open, and Chanyeol stood, observing with a cocked head. His eyes swooped up and down the length of Baekhyun’s body before he took slow, calculating steps towards him. Looking around, there were only a few people sharing the space with them. The ones at the sink took the hint and disappeared, but Baekhyun realised, breath hitching for the smallest of seconds, that Chanyeol wouldn’t have cared if they’d stayed.

“I always did like you in that sweater,” he hummed lowly, a deliberate tongue teasing the seam of his bottom lip. “Do you remember what I said about it?”

The undertone of commandment was cool but clear, and Baekhyun bit his lip as another memory zinged through his mind, hot and vivid. “I don’t recall.”

Chanyeol smirked—a look entirely too good on him. “I think you just wanna hear me say it again.”

Less than a foot between them and a forearm pressed beside his head, Baekhyun let himself play along. Regardless of what was to come, beside himself, he allowed himself to unwind, encaged in Chanyeol’s familiar body. “What if I do?”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue in chastisement, free hand dancing across the vein in his neck down to his collar, fingers as delicate and precise as a ballerina’s steps. He indulged him, just this once, repeating what he’d said on a whim one night, sipping tea while Baekhyun had gotten ready to go out. He leaned in close to his ear and softly whispered, “Whether you wear leather or cotton, the night’s still going to end with me sucking you off.”

Baekhyun actually smiled at that, a full-on puppy grin, like the one he’d used to deal out unconditionally. It pulled at the sensitive fibres that made up Chanyeol’s being, until he found himself pushing a strand of Baekhyun’s wavy hair back, behind his ear. Chests flush and breathing unsteady, Chanyeol craned his neck to stare into the unfocused eyes of Baekhyun, a dark, furtive brown. Their lips drew close, too near to bear for too long. Baekhyun didn’t dare move any closer—he revelled in the moment, bass of the club beyond the wall swallowing his senses, numbing his ears, nerves skating across his skin in a shiver.

“Park Chanyeol, are you going to make me beg?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised smut, but there was so much to write about their actual intellectual, emotional, human relationship that it has to be put in another chapter. Good news- that chapter will be the next one!  
> Promise to write as soon as I can, I think I'm putting an actual storyline together for this now. I can only hope it'll make sense <3


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